


(No) Tenderness

by keeli_marie



Series: No Tenderness Collection [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hate Sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inspired by Music, Love/Hate, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Top Harry Potter, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeli_marie/pseuds/keeli_marie
Summary: Draco hates Potter. And Potter hates him.The problem is, they can't seem to keep their hands off each other.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: No Tenderness Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706401
Comments: 18
Kudos: 820
Collections: Potter & Malfoy





	(No) Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> Some porn, just in time for Valentine's Day<3 Hope you enjoy!

Draco’s back hits the castle wall with a thud as a wand is shoved against the vulnerable flesh of his throat. He swallows hard and tries to hide his wince, still not quite recovered from the last time this happened.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex you, Malfoy,” Potter growls through gritted teeth. This could be about what Draco said in the Great Hall at dinner, or it could be the Trip Jinx he sent Potter’s way as they were leaving Charms earlier that afternoon. 

Any number of things could account for why Potter has tracked him down tonight. But regardless of the reason, Draco knows by now that this won’t end in a wand fight.

“Go on then, Potter. Do it,” Draco goads. His sneer firmly in place, lips tilted cruelly, “You know you want to.” 

Potter pockets his wand and presses against him harder. He grabs for Draco’s hands, pinning them above his head, the delicate bones of Draco’s wrists protesting against the vice-like grip. 

A whine builds in Draco’s throat as the rough touch zaps through his body like a stinging hex.

“I fucking hate you,” Potter hisses quietly, and the venom in his words strike Draco like lightening.

“Hate you too,” Draco replies, equally venomous.

And it’s as if Potter was waiting for those words. Something—a hint of dark desire, sparks bright in those stupidly green eyes, and then his mouth is on Draco’s. 

The kiss isn’t one shared between lovers; rather a fight between life long enemies. Its teeth clashing and lips bitten. Its Potter’s nails, digging in and carving crescent-shaped marks into his skin. Years worth of pent up emotion rushing out of them the only way it knows how.

Potter pulls his mouth away, ending the kiss just as quickly as he started it. He’s breathing hard as he tucks his face into Draco’s neck and drags his tongue against the sensitive spot below Draco’s ear.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Potter asks, voice low and unsteady, the words vibrating against Draco’s flushed skin.

“It’s a talent,” Draco answers, letting his smirk show in his voice. 

Draco groans appreciatively when Potter responds by rubbing a stubbled check against his jaw. He knows his skin will be pink and irritated afterwards, and he’ll have to glamour it—glamour not heal, but Draco doesn’t want to think about his reasoning for that. The important thing is that no one sees the beard burn or the purple bruises Potter leaves all over his body. The scars on his chest apparently not enough for Potter, determined as he seems to leave his mark on Draco. 

When Potter’s hands sneak up underneath his shirt, fingers finding a nipple and twisting it meanly, Draco realises his own hands have been released and are hanging limply at his sides. He takes advantage of the momentary freedom and grabs at Potter’s hair, his fingers pulling roughly at the unruly curls.

“What would your adoring fans say if they could see you now, Potter? Do you think they’d still worship the ground you walk on if they knew?” Draco asks in a taunting voice, because he just can't help himself. 

Potter lifts his head, something dangerous glittering in his eyes, and Draco feels Potter’s magic flare around them, feels his own reaching out towards it. 

“And what would your father say, Malfoy, if he knew how you love to get on your knees for me? How you beg me for it.”

Anger floods Draco’s body at that and he quickly surges forward, his teeth biting into Potter’s bottom lip hard.

Potter swears and rears back, his eyes gone dilated and wide. Draco can only watch, mesmerized, as the blood swells to the surface and drips down Potter’s chin. Draco slowly lifts two fingers, pressing them against the broken flesh, and he can’t stop the whimper that escapes him as Potter slowly sucks his fingers inside.

Potter’s mouth is hot, his tongue wicked as it teases and caresses. He laves at Draco’s fingers, moaning around them as his eyelids drop closed.

There is no warning before he viciously bites down in retaliation.

“Fuck,” Draco snarls, reclaiming his fingers and looking at the indentations Potter’s teeth have left behind.

The kiss that follows is coppery and wet. A desperate thing that has the ability to make Draco feel as though he’s breaking into a million pieces. 

“I hate how much I need this,” Potter whispers as they break apart, and Draco suspects he wasn’t meant to hear that. Still, a shudder shoots down his spine, the words spreading through him like molten heat, settling low behind his balls and pulsing brightly.

_I’m not the only one. He needs me too,_ Draco thinks dizzily. And he feels like he’s cracking apart at the seams, because of this boy—this man—that he hates, and sometimes doesn’t hate at all. 

“ _Up_. Get your fucking legs around me,” Potter demands, and Draco lets Potter hoist him up, hooks his long legs tightly around Potter’s waist, winds his arms around Potter’s neck. 

Potter’s fingers are like hot brands where they grab at him, right where his thighs meet his arse. Draco sucks in a sharp breath when they dig in hard enough to leave bruises. 

Potter spins them away from the wall and into an unused classroom before Draco can even register what’s happening. The movement so smooth and fast he’d think Potter Apparated them if he didn’t know better.

He sets Draco back on his feet and turns away to throw locking and silencing charms at the door, and then he stalks forward—a panther hunting its prey. 

One of Potter’s hands cups his hard cock, and the other tangles in his hair. Potter’s eyes are almost black, a blistering heat burning there as he stares at Draco, making him feel seen in a way no one else ever has. 

They share another biting kiss, and then Potter applies only the slightest bit of pressure with the hand that’s gripping his hair—and Draco’s knees hit the floor. 

His fingers tremble as he pops the button on Potter’s jeans. His breath stutters out of him as he lowers the zipper.

Potter uses both hands now, holding Draco firmly in place as he pulls Potter’s jeans down, just enough to free his cock.

Draco looks up through his lashes, meeting Potter’s eyes boldly as he snaps the elastic band of Potter’s boxer briefs against his arse. The sound echoes around the room and is only drowned out by Potter’s moan as he unceremoniously shoves his prick down Draco’s throat. 

Draco gags, tears springing to his eyes, before he forces himself to relax. 

And then Potter starts to fuck his face, slow and deep, seeming content to take his time.

This isn’t the common room late at night or a supply closet in-between classes. No one will catch them here. They’re in an unused part of the castle, the door locked. The implications of that; that Potter can torture him, for as long as he wants and with no mercy, makes Draco moan around his cock.

Potter grunts in reply, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm. Draco knows he’s close, and he has to see. Needs to. 

He looks up, his own cock twitching and pulsing at the sight of Potter teetering on the edge. His head is tipped back, mouth red and kiss swollen and hanging open. His eyes are closed, dark lashes brushing his flushed cheeks. 

He’s beautiful.

Potter comes with a gutted out sound, his movements going erratic and then slowing as he shudders through the aftershocks.

When Draco stands slowly, his legs are like that of a newborn Thestral—soft and unsteady. He’s a mess, he knows, his chin wet with spit and come. Tears still cling to his eyelashes. His hair mussed from Potter’s hands, fair skin a blotchy red.

Potter stares at him as he comes back down, his cock still half hard and on display. Draco averts his gaze, lifting an arm up to wipe away the evidence of what he just let happen. Again. 

But Potter grabs his wrist and halts the movement, “Don’t,” he says, an emotion Draco can’t quite discern flitting over his face, “I like you messy.”

The fact that Potter admits to liking anything about him has Draco’s pulse hammering.

Draco breathes in deeply, tries to calm his racing heart, and affects a cool tone, “Charming as that is, Potter, I’d like to get cleaned up and go back to the dorms.”

Potter’s eyes narrow and his lips press into a flat line.

“Who said we were done?” Potter asks, not waiting for an answer before he steps closer to Draco and snakes a hand inside his trousers, “You’re still hard.”

“What do you propose we do about it then?” Draco retorts, trying to seem unaffected and failing miserably.

Potter brings his mouth close to Draco’s ear, his breath puffing warm against Draco’s skin.

“I’m gonna spread you out and put my mouth on you while I open you up. I’ll take my time, make it last until you’re begging me to let you come. Then, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget everything except my name,” Potter rasps in reply, and Draco whimpers as his cock twitches and leaks in Potter’s hand. 

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Yeah?” Potter says, and it’s a question. Like he needs verbal confirmation that Draco wants this. As if Draco would ever deny him.

“Yes,” Draco breathes the word out, all his focus on not coming in his pants as Potter’s hand continues its assault, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

With a wave of Potter’s wand they’re both naked, their clothes reappearing in a neat pile on a dusty chair by the door. He shoves at Draco, making him stumble backwards until his legs bump against a desk.

“Lie back,” Potter instructs, and Draco notices the shiny substance that suddenly coats his fingers. Wandless lubrication spell. Draco hates how hot he finds that, “Now.”

Draco shivers at the command and stretches out on his back. He lets his legs dangle off the edge, the wood desk hard and uncomfortable beneath him. Potter steps closer, roughly parting Draco’s legs and sucking his cock down without preamble. 

Draco cries out as Potter bobs back up, licking at the precome beaded at the tip, before swallowing him down again and again.

Potter isn’t careful or gentle as he rubs at Draco’s entrance, two fingers pushing in roughly and crooking upwards to rub at his prostate. Draco fucks down with a groan, burying Potter’s fingers in deep. 

All too soon Draco starts to crest the edge, his body oversensitive and muscles tense.

They’ve done this enough times now that Potter knows he’s close, and he pulls off Draco’s cock, stilling his fingers. He ignores Draco’s complaints, leaving him hanging, squirming and twisting as he tries to find friction. 

“Let me come,” Draco demands, his voice wavering, “Fucking—Potter. Let. me. come.”

“No,” Potter says simply, “I told you, Malfoy. I’m taking my time.”

Potter waits with a smug smile on his face as Draco’s body calms back down to a low simmering arousal. 

He doesn’t take Draco’s cock back into his mouth, leaving it leaking against his stomach and instead sucks and bites at Draco’s inner thighs, his fingers starting up a relentless rock inside his body. 

He brings Draco back to the edge and leaves him there. Never giving him enough stimulation to actually tip him over. It’s torture and Draco feels like he’ll go mad from it.

“Please, please, fuck. Potter, please,” Draco starts to babble incoherently at some point and finally, _finally_ , Potter gives in.

“Stand up and bend over,” Potter says, and while he might look unaffected to someone else, Draco doesn’t miss the way that his eyes have dilated, the way his fists clench at his sides as he waits for Draco to move into position, the way he lets out a low, rumbling moan when Draco is bent over and spread open in front of him. 

Draco feels Potter move closer, slicking his cock, his knuckles brushing against Draco’s arse. 

Then he can only whimper at the sharp, sweet burn as Potter pushes inside. It’s one fluid movement and it knocks the breath right from Draco’s lungs, leaving him gasping for air. 

Potter starts up a punishing rhythm, pounding into Draco, each hard thrust shoving his body forward against the unforgiving wood beneath him. Potter’s hands squeeze at his hips, fingers digging in and pulling Draco back against him.

He hits Draco’s prostate with a perfect accuracy, lighting up Draco’s body, making his nerve endings spark brightly. 

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for this,” Potter says, the words broken on a moan. 

Draco can't form coherent words at this point, his vocabulary reduced to little _Ah, ah’s._

Draco wants to move his hand, wants to grab his cock and stroke it until he comes. But his hands won’t cooperate, staying clenched around the edge of the desk, like they're the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence.

He whines, arches his back and Potter knows what he needs. He always knows. 

Actual tears leak from his eyes when Potter’s hand closes around him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Come on, Draco. Come for me.”

And it’s his name leaving Potter’s lips that does it. Those two syllables something substantial that sink into his very bones. His orgasm crashes through him, white-hot and violent, pulse after pulse of come hitting the floor in front of him. 

He feels Potter come too, feels it splash hot inside him.

When Potter collapses against his back, Draco allows it. He lets Potter brush his lips against his neck in a soft kiss, so gentle and more intimate than anything else they’ve just shared. It makes his throat tight, plants little seeds of _what if_ inside his brain, makes him want more. 

But they don’t do tender. That’s not them, can never be. So Draco shoves those feelings down deep where no one will ever find them.

“Get the fuck off me, you oaf,” Draco snaps, pushing up on weak arms and dislodging Potter. 

“Fuck you, Malfoy. Merlin, give a guy a minute,” Potter complains, still out of breath, but he moves away instantly. 

Draco feels sore and well-used as he straightens up and stretches. Potter is already across the room, quickly pulling his clothes back on. Draco moves to do the same, firmly ignoring Potter’s presence.

It’s when he’s about to leave, his hand turning the doorknob, that Potter breaks the silence and calls out.

“Hey, Malfoy.”

“What?” Draco glances over, watches as Potter swiftly closes the distance between them to grab him up in a hard kiss. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always welcomed and appreciated <3


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